Drabbletalia: Possibility
by Muragaragah
Summary: Iceland's European Union application is up for review. Set in a fictional meeting of the EU. FinIce BL/shounen-ai.


_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own Hetalia, Himaruya does.~_

_/ Warnings: BL/shounen-ai, and this is my first time writing Iceland._

* * *

_Chapter Title: Possibility._

If Iceland didn't know better, he would've sworn that, at that particular moment in time, he was an inmate on death row in line for judgment. But, even though his palms had broken out in a cold sweat and his legs felt as if they would buckle underneath him with every step he took toward the double doors of the colossal conference room, he knew better.

He knew that he had to do this. He wanted to do this.

So he adjusted the bow tied meticulously round his neck and, when his national name was announced, strutted defiantly into the room, though it took all of his willpower not to dash right back the way he had come.

All current members of the distinguished European Union were seated in a forum-style fashion, their national names and flags embellished upon nameplates that stood away from their respective desks. He scanned quickly over the familiar faces that amicably met his gaze, though it did nothing to quell the horde of panicky butterflies trapped in his stomach.

The white noise of low chatter diminished into complete, pin-drop silence as the eloquent yet obviously bored voice of none other than Norway sounded over the heads of the other countries. "The application of Iceland into the European Union is now up for debate."

Iceland's periphery fell on his fellow Nordic nation just as Norway finished his statement. "W-Wait, Norway… why are you here? I thought…"

"Denmark dragged me here, and our fellow countries elected me as spokesperson, since I'm not exactly _in_ the EU, and because none of them wanted to take on the role," Norway explained, enigmatic eyes straying toward the spiky-haired Denmark perched beside him, though it was apparent that the boisterous Dane didn't notice. "Anyway… opinions? What say you all on the subject at hand?"

The conference hall burst into a frenzy of chatter, accents and tone colours of all varieties meshing in the tense air. Iceland could definitely pick out murmurings about his fisheries and commercial whaling among others. _They really don't understand, do they? Those are parts of my way of life, like Britain's inedible scones, or Sweden's IKEA stores…_

One particularly distinctive voice floated above the rest, somehow demanding silence without having to request it; all eyes turned toward the small-framed, wheat-haired Nordic situated between Sweden and Estonia, proudly sporting his typical cyan uniform. "I think Iceland should be accepted into the EU," Finland sibilated, calm lavender eyes trained upon Iceland who stood on the ground level, "he is practically already in the EU without having an official membership, considering his prominence in the organisation's market dealings…"

The ever-snobby Englishman that represented the island of Great Britain was the next to speak, his rebuttal punctuated by a stolen sip of Earl Grey tea. "But what about the issues we've faced with his fisheries? That alone could severely impact our global reputation, Finland."

France was next to speak out, stripping delicate petals off of an already imperfect crimson rose, "I agree with _Angleterre."_

A good half of the others seemed to mumble their agreement, though none of them publicly announced it.

Iceland couldn't help that his expression broke then—it took everything that he had to rediscover his voice and speak up loud enough to capture everyone's askew attention, "Well, it's more than obvious to me that I won't receive membership into the EU this year. I'll escort myself out. Thanks for your time… I guess."

The ruffling of papers and footsteps resonated behind him as he turned, but he didn't cast a glimpse back: he shuffled out through the gargantuan oak door that he had entered just a handful of minutes earlier, clammy hands jammed into the pockets of his burgundy jacket. "Issues with my fisheries…" he muttered under his breath as he rounded a corner and turned a hairpin right, straight into an empty side room that he vaguely remembered passing on his way toward the conference hall.

His hands balled into fists within his pockets as he crossed the room, to stand directly in front of the arched window overlooking a petite wildflower garden. "Four years now of trying to gain membership… dammit."

"Now that's interesting. I don't think I've ever heard you curse before, Iceland."

Iceland didn't need to turn to find out who had tailed him—he'd know that bright voice anywhere—but he did anyway, the previous fiery anger that scorched his cheeks morphed into outright hopelessness. "It shouldn't surprise you that much, Finland… wouldn't you curse too, if you had spent the last four years trying to gain membership into the EU, but only to be met with rejection?"

Finland stepped closer to Iceland, his expression overly gentle as he nodded. "I know it's hard, Ice—"

"No, Finland, it's not hard," Iceland interrupted, shaking his head and blinking hard, "it's ridiculous. They're probably going to reject my membership because they don't approve of my fisheries… as if they don't have flaws of their own." He withdrew his fists from his pockets; by now his arms shook from the force of his grasp.

"But it's not like that, and you should—"

"What? I should know better? I _do_ know better, Fin." Iceland sighed, gaze tumbling to the floor in front of his friend's boots. "Even you're sticking up for them…"

Just before Iceland closed his eyes in an attempt to stop the tears that welled, he noticed Finland take a step forward. He didn't think very much of it at first, but that was before he felt a pair of sinewy arms wrap around him, a hand flitted up to cup the back of his head and gradually press his cheek against something soft. Embarrassed blush swilled in his cheeks as he opened his eyes, first noticing the blurred curve of Finland's neck, the fine split ends of the other's fallow hair… his cheek rested against his fellow Nordic's shoulder.

Finland's voice was a few decibels quieter than before as he spoke, breaking infinitesimal silence, "I voted for the acceptance of your membership, Ice. I'm not sticking up for them… no. I voted for you." His violet eyes slid down to contact Iceland's own blues as his arms tightened securely around the other.

Iceland stayed silent for about half a moment, at a loss for words and his own voice. "W-What about Sweden? I know you get easily swayed by his opinion…"

The shade of an amused smile piqued the corners of Finland's mouth. "I can say with confidence that all of the Nordic states voted for your acceptance… except maybe Norway, but he's not a part of the EU anyway, the silly country."

Iceland couldn't hold back the tiny smile that upturned his lips. "Yeah." A pause. "Fin… I'm sorr—"

His eyes bulged wide as Finland leant close to him, a free hand having nudged Iceland's face away from his shoulder. With innocent, half-open amethyst eyes, he closed the distance between himself and Iceland and claimed the younger nation's lips, eyes fully flickering shut.

Iceland froze within Finland's ever tender hold: he had never expected to be so close to his fellow Nordic nation, let alone one that scary Mr. Sweden had deemed "his wife" centuries ago. Somewhere in his boggled mind, he knew that he should've pulled away, that what they were doing was morally wrong, but reluctance met his racing thoughts: as sinful as it was, Iceland enjoyed sharing such a space with another person, especially someone that he trusted unconditionally. It had been far too long that anyone had ever shared the Icelandic country's own personal space, and with such gentle and practised touches to boot.

The kiss ended almost as quickly as it started—the two pulled away simultaneously. "Don't apologise, Ice. Just try again next year, okay?" Finland's voice had regained its normal speaking volume.

Iceland could only nod.

"Good." Finland's arms returned to his sides, and almost immediately a new sort of chill broke over Iceland. "Now, I have to return to the meeting. I'll see you afterward, maybe in a few hours!"

Wearing a summery smile as if nothing had happened, Finland turned and ambled out of the room, making a left in the hallway.

Iceland could still feel the soft, chapped texture of Finland's lips pressed against his own as he turned toward the arched window once again.

_It was just a kiss. A gesture at its most primitive root._

_ An accident. Something that wasn't meant to be. Nothing more than that._

_ …Right?_


End file.
